


Wakey Wakey, Eggs and Bakey

by oneshycrow



Series: The Kids Don't Wanna Come Home [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Slice of Life, Swearing, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29375406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneshycrow/pseuds/oneshycrow
Summary: Butch cooks for Jamie because the other man is impossibly incompetent when it comes to food.
Relationships: Butch DeLoria/Lone Wanderer, Butch DeLoria/Male Lone Wanderer
Series: The Kids Don't Wanna Come Home [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142966
Kudos: 6
Collections: Fluffy February 2021





	Wakey Wakey, Eggs and Bakey

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day five of the Fallout Fluffy February prompt challenge, which can be found here: http:// fluffyfebruary.tumblr.com/  
> The prompt is Cooking Together.

“What are you doing?”

Jamie looks up from where he’s reclined on the bed with his comic book and a box of Sugar Bombs, a curious brow raised at Butch who’s just barged into their room at the Weatherly with his bag slung over his shoulder. “Um, eating?” 

Butch scoffs and closes the door behind him, toeing off his boots and walking over to the table in the center of the room to dump out the contents of his bag. “You can’t just eat dry cereal every day. It’s not good for you,” he scolds, his tone surprisingly serious given the conversation. He furrows his brow and digs around in his bag, the tip of his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth as he looks for something.

Jamie sits up a bit straighter, dusts the crumbs from his chest, and sucks the sugar from his fingers. “I don’t see the problem with it,” he sneers, leaning precariously over the edge of the bed to try and catch a glance of what Butch is doing. “’Sides,” he inspects the box, “it says right here that it’s a nutritious breakfast.”

Butch finally finds what he’s looking for in his bag - seriously though how big could that bag be? – and pulls it out with a triumphant _‘aha!’_ He turns back to Jamie, cradling his prize in his hands. “C’mon, Nosebleed, even you ain’t that stupid. It says _part_ of a nutritious breakfast. Shit’s as good as dirt on its own.”

Jamie doesn’t bother to respond, his eyes widening as he catches a glance at what Butch has pulled from his bag. He tosses the practically empty box of Sugar Bombs to the side, ignoring the other man’s irritated _‘hey!’_ as it topples over and spills cereal dust all over the bed. 

“Is that a fucking Deathclaw egg?!”

\---

About twenty minutes later they’re both sitting cross-legged on the dusty floor, their scavenged hot plate set up between them. Jamie has messily chopped up the few fresh vegetables they swiped from Doctor Li’s lab the night before and he’s watching intently as Butch carefully cracks the Deathclaw egg into a large bowl.

“How the hell did you learn how to cook?” Jamie asks, reaching over to help Butch pick out the small pieces of shell that fell into the yolk. He has to resist the urge to lick his fingers after – that wouldn’t be good.

“From my ma.” Butch says simply. He stretches one leg out and pulls the other up to his chest, leaning his arm over his knee as he talks. “She didn’t like to cook much but taught me enough before she quit. Then I ended up cookin’ for both of us.” He turns the hot plate on high and sets a large pan on the burner, balancing it as well as he can with its warped bottom. It still begins to wobble with the heat, but it would do. He unwraps a small morsel of Brahmin butter and chucks it into the pan.

Jamie stares at the pan in delight as the butter starts to sizzle. He’d only had the luxury of tasting the sweet creaminess of Brahmin butter a few times since he’d been in the Wastes – mostly when someone bought him dinner in an attempt to win him over to their side. It definitely beat the two-hundred-year-old, oil-based margarine they had in the Vault. 

“Can’t believe your dad didn’t teach you how to cook,” Butch says, casting a wary glance up at Jamie as he begins to whisk the yolk with a fork. Talking about their families rough, but Jamie’s father is a particularly touchy subject. He can’t help but be curious, though. He knows their relationship wasn’t perfect, but he could’ve sworn it was a lot better than him and his ma’s.

Jamie shrugs. “Yeah,” he says simply, tossing the chopped-up veggies into the pan on Butch’s cue. “He wasn’t around a lot. When I was a baby it was mostly Beatrice, I guess and when I was older it was mostly just me. Guess he figured we had microwaves and a diner, so why bother. Look how well that plan turned out.” Jamie can’t help but scoff, a small smile tugging at his lips. He still has some problems with his father and a lot of hurt to work through; a lot of hurt that he normally pushes down. But in this small moment he can’t help but just feel thankful he had anything at all with the man.

The next few minutes are uneventful, save for Butch pulling off an impressive omelet flip with the plan, which Jamie cheers on. When the omelet is finished it smells wonderful and earthy, the saltiness of the Brahmin butter making Jamie’s mouth water. They dig in and eat it straight off the pan. It’s golden brown on the outside and fluffy on the inside – it practically melts in his mouth with every bite. It’s quite possibly the best thing Jamie’s ever eaten and between the two boys it disappears quickly.

“Where’d you learn to cook an egg anyway?” Jamie asks, giving Butch a playful shove while they gather their dishes and begin getting ready for their day. They didn’t exactly have any chickens in the vault, let alone deathclaws. Butch just grins and winks.

“That’s classified.”


End file.
